C-Sick - Attitudes 2012 lyrics

[Intro] [Ras Ka** talking]: But this dedicated to my homeboy. My n***a Hex Murda. Royce 5'9". Ra**y Ka**y. C-SICK, Sick Jacken let's get it [Verse One] [Ras Ka**]: I'm still a Conceited ba*tard Threw away in Hell and said f** it to asthma Cause I self lord and master Real n***a, let my nuts hang like a flasher My life's the Hangover, Anchor Man and Wedding Crashers My n***as mix the weed and the hash up I keep heavy water stashed up Feed inter venous like plasma Keep vix face down with a** up Like my n***a Cipher Sounds, hope I don't get ga**ed up But this Ras and whips get crashed up Then a n***as ski masked up to up and go get it My daddy used to say I was obstinate But then my poppa split so why be the opposite? The judge sentenced me said I don't respect authority Yeah, probably true, ask Priority Ask that b**h n***a Garnett March I spit on at The Source Awards So of course it's on And my verses born with a curse upon So I be f**in' clowns up like circus p**n Peace to my n***a Hex, get well, we all prayin' This dedicated to you for bein' 100 and stayin'...real And sayin' exactly what the f** you feel Like these f*ggots wearing women's skin like Buffalo Bill Haters I'll let the silencer bust in your grill f** pigs too, I'mma muffle your squeals And I still walk around like my sh** don't stink Bootleg your album then I'll post your link f** I'm so ill and I don't know Bill So I'd rather k** you Hide you in the shower and your corpse mildew View to a k** n***as hate my guts but gotta respect how I take your lunch n***a [Hook] [Ras Ka**]: My attitude is f**ed up and real sh**ty My latitude is much up and real gritty Have your brain f**ed up, I'm too witty Watch how a n***a nuts up, like two titties My attitude is f**ed up and real sh**ty I done made enough bucks, a few cities Have your brain f**ed up, I'm too witty Dog I done had enough lunch, you're too kitty [Verse Two] [Royce Da 5'9"]: Your attitude determines your latitude This house that we call hip hop, I'm in the attic fool A mic and some turntables fit for the unstable Converted to a padded room Keep a street sweeper, in fact I call the Mag a broom You seein' me you seein' things You must of had yourself a bag of shrooms I make a call make a faker fall My clique is too sick so say goodbye In the streets where the stakes/steaks is high Like Ruth Chris, I'm from the city of true sh** Where the mayor went to jail for being a player right after Drew split Levels ahead of competitors, Royce that I'm drinkin' everyday till Hex Murda get his regular voice back Ras I got you, this K will blast for you From a block away, ask Tricky I'm that n**y I'm more hooded than black Dickies I rap like committing suicide in the booth takin' the track with me Patron's in my chromosomes in order to leave it alone You have to ween me off That Lorena Bobbit chopper will knock a weenie off Put your body between chalk From squeezin' the nine iron like you swingin' golf I'm the best rapper alive, put somethin' on it You sound plain as a cheese pizza with nothin' on it [Hook] [Ras Ka**]: My attitude is f**ed up and real sh**ty My latitude is much up and real gritty Have your brain f**ed up, I'm too witty Watch how a n***a nuts up, like two titties My attitude is f**ed up and real sh**ty I done made enough bucks, a few cities Have your brain f**ed up, I'm too witty Dog I done had enough lunch, you're too kitty